Chapter Sixteen

Renzo

“Should I be making some Bay Breezes for that lovely wife of yours?” Dav asked as I went to the bar to grab a drink.

“Ask her when you see her,” I said, surprised she hadn’t made an appearance yet. Everyone had been around for almost two hours already.

Maybe she was trying to work her nerve up or some shit.

“Whose face did you smash in?” I asked, walking up to another of my men, Cage.

Cage… had been a thorn in my fucking ass since I’d taken over for this family. The spoiled, bratty, entitled-ass son of a former capo. The second his old man went to prison, Cage had spiraled out of control. Drinking, drugging, making his older sister, Avery’s, life a living fucking hell.

Then he went and became my problem when he went around flaunting the Lombardi crime family connection while starting shit with the Irish mafia that was already giving me a goddamn headache.

Cage was single-handedly to blame for shit with the Costas almost going into a full-on war.

After I cleaned up his mess, I’d set my sights into cleaning him up.

So I dried him out.

Made him hit the gym.

I put him to work.

A chance to get his fucking shit together and grow the fuck up.

Since then, he’d been proving he was worth all the work by keeping the Irish mob in their place.

“Aidan,” he said, flexing his busted knuckles.

“Sure that fuck had it coming,” I said, thinking of the skinny redhead with an attitude problem.

“He did,” he agreed. “I hear my sister was here today.”

“What?” I asked, stiffening.

“Yeah, Avery wanted to drop by to check on Lore. Seems like she hasn’t really been keeping in touch with her family, so Avery offered to see how she was doing.”

Awful fucking timing on that.

I’d gotten a look at Lore’s sleeping face early that morning, the bruise taking on some yellow and green around the edges, making it look worse even as it started to get better. The lip, at least, looked mostly healed.

“Lore didn’t say anything?” Cage asked, head tipped to the side.

“Haven’t talked to her yet,” I admitted, watching as Cage’s brows drew together.

Confused.

It didn’t strike me until then how little I knew about Lore’s days. What she did. Who she talked to.

Apparently, not her family.

And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

I mean, I imagined shit had gotten strained about the wedding alliance. The wedding had been a powder keg of tension. So if she’d had some disagreements with her family leading up to the event, maybe they were struggling to get past that.

Still.

That was her family.

And despite having almost a whole lifetime of hard feelings toward the Costas, I didn’t like the idea of her having no contact with them.

Avery was probably the best person to have shown up, though, since she knew us better than the Costas did. She also hadn’t been with the Costa family long, so wouldn’t be so overprotective of Lore.

“Huh,” Cage said. “Figured maybe she would text you about it.”

Text me about it.

Maybe she would have.

If she had my number.

Which I’d never given her.

I didn’t have her number either.

If I wanted to get in touch with her, I’d have to do it through whichever guard was at the door.

That was… kind of fucked up.

“How’s Avery doing?” I asked, wanting to change the subject, not wanting my crew to think something was wrong with this marriage I’d insisted upon, despite a lot of fucking objections.

“Good. Good. Seems happy,” he said, then started to talk to someone who moved in at his side as, suddenly, Elian walked into the apartment, searching the crowd, finding me, and… glowering.

He fucking glowered at me.

The fuck?

I tossed back my drink and made my way in his direction as he looked in the oven, then the fridge.

What the hell was he looking for? Did he leave some food around and thought I ate it or some shit?

I moved around the island as he yanked open the cabinet with the garbage can, then pulled it out.

“You fuck,” he hissed, shaking his head.

“You talking to me?” I asked, brows raised.

Sure, we called each other names all the time. It was part of growing up together, despite the power imbalance that came into play when I took control of the family.

But there was something different in his tone as he said it.

Like he was pissed at me.

“Yeah, I’m fucking talking to you,” Elian said, gaze lifting, shooting fucking daggers at me.

“The fuck got into you?”

“What is everyone doing here?” he asked.

I glanced around, confused. “Hanging out.”

“I texted you earlier,” he said.

Yeah.

He had.

About coming home earlier.

Which, in fact, I did.

“I’m aware. And here I am.”

“And you invited the whole family.”

“Elian, the fuck, man? You got a problem, say it.”

“Yeah, I got a problem,” he said, suddenly yanking the garbage can out of the sliding track, and dropping it down at my feet.

“What’s that?” I asked, looking down at what looked like an entire garbage bag full of food.

“The dinner your wife made for you,” he snapped.

“What?” I asked, glancing back down at the food. Pasta, sauce, cheese, salad ingredients. “She cooked for me?” I asked, a strange, tugging sort of sensation in my chest at the idea.

“Yeah. And you couldn’t even fucking come home and eat it with her? The fuck is the matter with you?” he snarled, surprising me with his candor.

Clearly, the guy had bonded with my wife.

And he was furious at what he saw as my mistreatment of her.

“You take that girl, rip her away from everything and everyone she knows, lock her up in this apartment alone all day and most of the night. And you can’t even be here the one time she asks anything of you.”

That was… fair.

I couldn’t even fault him for what he said.

Lore asked me for absolutely nothing.

And I… gave her almost nothing too.

I think, in my mind, I figured she had it pretty good. A big apartment all to herself. No husband breathing down her neck, questioning what she was doing all the time. As much money as she wanted. Toe-curling orgasms.

But what if that wasn’t enough?

What if she wanted more?

And I was too fucking distracted to notice?

Clearly, Elian had seen this shit.

“Would it fucking kill you to treat her like you give a shit that she’s even alive?” Elian asked.

“I give a shit about her,” I snapped back, our voices starting to get louder.

“Yeah?” he snorted. “Give a shit about how you can use her then ignore her, seems like.”

“The fuck, man? You wanna marry her?” I asked, anger growing.

“I want you to take care of the woman you stood in front of a priest with and promised before God to take care of. I want to stop seeing her eyes all swollen and red every goddamn morning when I bring her breakfast. I want to stop seeing her blooded cuticles every afternoon from fussing with them because she’s lonely and anxious and has no one to tell that to.”

“Wh—“

“I know you got nobody, man. I get that you don’t have a little sister that you can see in her shoes. I do. And I wouldn’t blame them if Nico and his brothers all showed up here to drag your ass down to the docks and take you out for what you’ve done to their sister.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dav said, coming into the kitchen, his arms raised in a peacemaking gesture. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about over here, but it’s starting to get a little loud. And you look like you’re about to come to blows,” he said, looking between the two of us. “You need a referee?”

“No,” Elian said, glaring at me for another second, then turning away. “I’m leaving.”

And with that, he was gone.

I found myself staring down in the garbage can, thinking of Lore in the apartment, moving around the kitchen, stirring sauce, straining pasta, putting hours of work into something that she ended up throwing in the trash when I never showed up to eat it with her.

I didn’t feel guilt often.

In my life, you had to make a lot of tough decisions, often doing it without any time to think it over. You just had to trust your gut. Had to believe that you were doing the best you could in any situation. So there was nothing to get down on yourself about.

But that strange churning feeling in my stomach? That felt a lot like guilt.

“What are we looking at?” Dav asked, glancing down into the can.

But I quickly grabbed it, tossing it back into the holder, then kicked the track until the can disappeared under the sink again.

“Get everyone out of here,” I said, glancing over to see something I’d somehow missed before.

The dining table.

Set for two.

New candlestick holders set on it.

The churning intensified as I realized everything Elian said, as much as he might have been pushing a line to do it with his chest like that, was probably right.

By the time I made it across the apartment, I could hear Dav telling everyone it was time to clear out.

I stormed upstairs, the churning feeling in my stomach working its way up my throat.

Was she really crying every day? Elian wouldn’t need to make that shit up, right?

I didn’t have to work hard to imagine that she picked herself raw with anxiety.

I’d known since the minute I saw her at the church that she was meek and unsure of herself. I mean she’d been vibrating with nerves when I’d taken her hand.

She’d even been too anxious to tell me that she was a virgin before I surged inside of her, even though it wouldn’t have been as awful for her as it had been if she’d said something.

Of course she wasn’t going to be comfortable voicing her desires and objections to her new life to anyone.

Let alone me.

The one who forced her into this situation.

Hell, I wasn’t even around often enough for her to do so if she found the courage.

“The fuck?” I said, pushing open the bedroom door, finding the bed empty. “Lore?” I called, stepping into the bathroom, but finding that empty as well.

By the time I walked back out of the room, the apartment was abandoned below, drinks and food still scattered all around from Dav rushing everyone out of the door.

Sucking in a deep breath, I moved across the catwalk to the other balcony, pausing at the closed door I was met with.

Reaching for the knob, I pushed it open.

And there she was.

Curled up on the bed.

In a little black dress.

She’d even dressed up for me too.

‘Cause I needed something else to feel like shit about.

I moved inward, sitting down at her feet.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” she said, face buried in the pillow like she was talking to it, not to me, but I had to admire her for finding her balls enough to tell me off.

“Tough shit,” I said, then winced.

That was what I’d say to one of my capos.

Not how I was supposed to speak to my wife.

“Go away, Renzo,” she said, voice sounding small and raw.

“Can’t do that.”

But I also had no fucking idea how to make this right either.

She mumbled something then to herself. I wasn’t meant to make it out, but I could have sworn she said something about how I was good at going away.

“You cooked for me,” I said, seeing her stiffen at that. “I didn’t know, mouse,” I said. “Not until Elian just chewed my ass out about it.” She said nothing to that, just curled tighter into her ball, as though if she tried hard enough, she could fold into herself and disappear. “No one’s ever cooked for me before,” I said. “Looked good.”

I was getting nowhere.

And I was no good at this shit.

Sighing, I moved to stand, going toward the side of her body, then reaching out, sliding my hands under her, then starting to lift her.

“No,” she objected, jerking hard.

“Shh,” I murmured, pulling her tighter, knowing she liked being held, that it was the only tool I had in my arsenal here. That she liked being touched by me. Enough that, even though she was pissed and hurt, as soon as she was against my chest, she stopped struggling, and settled against me.

I kept her close as I moved down the catwalk, then the stairs, and across the apartment to place her down at her chair at the set table.

The second I released her and turned to go toward the island to get some food, though, I saw her stiffly stand.

“Lore,” I called, watching her stiffen at her name. “Work with me here,” I said. “I’m trying,” I added, watching as she turned to study my face for a second before sliding back onto the chair.

I moved around the kitchen, transferring some chicken piccata over noodles onto a plate, and reheating it in the microwave as I went to get us each a drink, having to look up the ingredients to that fruity drink Dav made Lore to make her one and bring it back.

I could feel her gaze on me the whole time, watching each move I made, and I found myself wanting to know what was on her mind as I brought back her drink, then the food, splitting it between our plates, and finally lighting the candles.

“Sure it’s not as good as what you made, but it’s…something,” I said.

I wanted to tell her that I was trying to, I don’t know, make shit better. That I was sorry for not seeing that she needed more from me.

But, well, I wasn’t good at that shit.

My life had never allowed for sitting around and talking about feelings. I wasn’t even sure if I even knew how I felt about any given situation. It never occurred to me to think about how I felt about shit.

In my world, feelings didn’t fucking matter.

What mattered were results and respect.

That was it.

“It smells good,” she said, clearly trying as well, even if her eyes still looked far away and sad.

We both reached for our forks and knives in silence, the only sound being the scratch across the plates as we cut, and the far away shriek of a police siren.

Christ.

What the fuck was I supposed to do here? Say?

Lore sure as fuck wasn’t going to start the conversation.

“I heard Avery came to visit,” I said, watching her head whip up, eyes wide. Like she was worried, maybe? “You can have anyone you want over, mouse,” I said, shaking my head. “Her brother was here tonight and mentioned it.”

“I, uh, I had coffee with her and Cinna.”

Cinna.

That was interesting.

“Didn’t think Cinna would be someone you’d like much,” I said. The women couldn’t be more opposite.

“I like that she speaks her mind,” she said.

Maybe that made sense.

In this new world, having someone who would talk straight with her was probably an asset she decided she needed.

“That she does,” I agreed, nodding. “Everything alright with your family?”

“It sounds like it,” she said, a sad smile tugging at her lips.

She missed them.

Of course she did.

The Costas were a tight crew and an even tighter family. Lore was probably used to seeing dozens of the members most days of the week. And she was now weeks into not seeing any of them.

“She’s not going to tell them about this,” Lore said, making my gaze flick up to see her motioning to her face.

“You don’t have to keep secrets from your family.” I couldn’t imagine how torn between both worlds she felt. The family she was raised in, had blood with, and the family she chose for her future.

“I think it might be better to tell them after the bruise is gone,” Lore said. “Nico is…” she trailed off shaking her head as she reached for her drink.

“Yeah,” I agreed, thinking of her eldest brother. Who, from what I could gather from my intel, was a solid, sturdy, mature kind of guy. Not the type to get worked up over things. But this was his baby sister. If he saw a bruise on her cheek that he saw as evidence to back up his feelings about my family’s unworthiness to take care of her, I had no doubt that he would lose his fucking shit.

I wouldn’t even blame him.

I was still fucking furious about it.

Mostly at myself.

Because if I’d been doing my job—as a boss, but more importantly, a husband—she would never have needed to go through that.

We fell silent then as we ate, neither of us good at this shit.

“Elian seems to be fond of you,” I said, watching as Lore’s brows pinched, like she was trying to read some sort of insinuation under the words.

“I see and talk to him more than anyone else,” she admitted, leaving me to wonder if there was chastisement in her words. “He seems like a really nice guy.”

“He sees his little sister in you.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed. “He kind of gives off big brother vibes.”

I didn’t realize there’d been tension in my shoulders since the argument with Elian in the kitchen until her words relaxed them. Some part of me had, undoubtedly, been concerned that she might harbor more-than-friendly feelings toward one of my men.

Lore finished her food, setting her fork and knife on the plate, then reaching to sip her drink.

“Time for dessert,” I said, pushing my own plate away as Lore’s gaze slid to the kitchen, looking for this ‘dessert’ I spoke of.

My chair groaned across the floor as I pushed it back, then started to lower down, catching the confused look on Lore’s face before I made my way under the table, crawling toward her side.

I was at her feet, my hands reaching for her knees, and spreading them, hearing her gasp as she realized my intentions.

“Still starving, mouse,” I said, spreading her thighs as her eyes went heated.

With her spread out for me, my hands slid up her thighs, pushing up her skirt, watching the little goosebumps prick across her skin as a shiver coursed through her.

Now this, this was something I was good at.

I might not be able to give my wife great conversation, or know what she wanted without her telling me, but I sure as fuck could make her feel good.

I yanked her panties to the side, then slid in, reveling in the taste of her as her hands went into my hair, sifting, then tugging, as I started to work her clit.

She was so fucking sensitive, those little mewling noises that set my cock rock-hard turning into loud moans in just a few minutes.

Her thighs were crushing the sides of my head as she got closer and closer.

As she came, her strangled cry was of my name.

And, fuck, I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard anything better before.

I was still kissing her thighs after when her hands started to tug at my hair once again.

“Please,” she said, making my head angle up.

“Please, what, mouse?” I asked, loving how flushed she was, how her dark blue eyes were pools of desire. “Please bend you over the table and fuck you?” I asked, watching her chest expand at my words.

“Yes,” she whispered, moving to stand, reaching for me as she did so.

“You sure you don’t want to go back to the spare room instead?” I asked as I pulled down the front of her dress, exposing her perfect tits, then reaching out to tease her until she was whimpering again.

“I’m sure,” she said.

“Okay then,” I said, reaching for her as I shoved her plate and glass out of the way, then bent her over the table, pressing her flat against the surface as I moved behind her, hiking up her skirt.

I lowered her panties, then freed myself, loving the way she wiggled around, desperate to feel my cock deep inside of her again.

I slid my cock up her pussy, letting her wetness coat me, then pressed back and surged inside.

Lore’s moan was almost pained as I slammed in to the base, feeling her pussy tighten greedily around me, begging for more.

“You feel so fucking good,” I groaned as I started to fuck her. Hard and fast and deep. “Oh, fuck, baby,” I hissed as she tried to rock backward into my thrusts, her loud moans filling the apartment. “You’re going to make me lose control.”

Then, as her pussy spasmed hard around my cock, I did just that, slamming into her until I came with a groan, my vision going white with the intensity of it.

I stayed planted deep as we both started to come back down, and I couldn’t help but love the idea of being inside of her raw, of coming inside of her, something I never had happen before.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up for me, mouse?” I asked as I pulled her panties back into place, then helped her stand up on what seemed like wobbly legs. “I’ll deal with this mess.”

With that, I watched her go, feeling like we’d made progress tonight.

Or so I hoped.